We All Go a Little Crazy Sometimes
by PsychoDirector
Summary: This isn't his happy ending. A friend with glowing yellow eyes is pressing a knife into his hand and whispering a name into his ear. Men in dark suits are taking him away from his family. All the while, he's just wondering what went wrong. [AU, preKH]
1. Chapter 1

**Psycho Director: **Heh, hi. Listen, a few words before you go in there. First off, this is in a style _totally _different from what I usually do. I'm pretty sure I pulled it off pretty good, but there might still be a few weird points. Wait, screw that, the whole thing is weird. It's supposed to be all weird and confusing and psychological. So it might seem really nuts at first, but it's supposed to (it makes it feel all psycho-ish... heh, heh, _psycho._ PUN). Read on, and it'll start making some sense. The story is very AU, but it's still going to keep the 'KH feel'. Meaning yes, there will still be Disney characters, and _Final Fantasy _characters, too. Just the whole world thing is... different. It's confusing. :O Look, just read it. You came this far, why back out now?

**Rated PG--PG-13: Strong violence, mild language, mild to moderate sextual themes**

**Summary**: There is none. Most anything put here would be a spoiler. Tough luck. xD

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"_Relax, ma'am. We need to see your son." _Sora heard the words at the same moment his mother did. From his perch on the side edge of the stairs, every word They said in the hall came to him instantly. He had spent a lot of time sitting in that same spot, listening, whenever someone rang the doorbell. His shoes had scraped off the paint against the wall from his nervous banging against it long ago. His legs dangled between two of the supports of the banister, coming to rest beside the side of the stairs, and his hands rested lightly against the railing.

"What? But why?" his mother questioned Them. Sora appreciated her trying to distract the guards and buy him time, but it wouldn't work. They had come, just like in the dreams (delusional fantasies, They would later correct him). He was going to die.

"He needs to come with us for a test. It shouldn't take more than an hour or so of your time." This was different from the dreams, as so much else was. In the dreams They never asked questions. They just took him away to the electric chair or the gallows. No questions, no problems.

There was the sound of papers rustling, and Sora wondered if they were giving our a warrant for… what was it again? Search and seizure, or lawful examination? Or lawful _extermination_? He should have studied harder. Still, he didn't know They would find out so soon. A few seconds later, his mother spoke.

"Sora? Can you come down for a minute?" She sounded worried, as she had every right to be. This was something else that was different from the dreams. In the dreams, everyone sounded dull and faraway. Now every voice was clear as a bell.

Often, in the dreams, Sora ran from Them. He would leapt up from his perch, slide down the steps, then make for the back door. In the dreams, he never made it. Either They had already formed a blockade around the house, or Those at the door would storm into the house Themselves. Sometimes They gassed the room, with mustard or poison gas. Other times They shot him, with either a tranquilizer or a real gun. Still other times They would just pick him up by the arms and drag him to their cramped and dark cars. No matter how it happened, it always ended in death. Now, however, he just walked slowly to them. He had faced death so many times that it ceased to scare him anymore.

He noticed yet another difference from now and the dreams. When he dreamed, They—sometimes only one, sometimes an army—would tower over him like demonic, terrifying towers. They had no faces; only shadows and maniac grins. However, he was stunned to realize that when he met Them in real life, They were just… people. One was African-American, with short black hair and a goatee. The other was just a little taller than his own mother, with light brown, slightly spiky hair. He couldn't have been much older than seventeen. What was he doing here? He looked concerned, but hid it well. He shouldn't have to be here.

"Oh, Sora. Those bags under your eyes look terrible. Did you get _any _sleep last night?" Sora shrugged away her concern. No; of course he hadn't gotten any sleep. How could he when he could die at any day? Plus there was the thrill of what he had done still coursing through his veins. He wanted to do it again, but he couldn't ever. He wouldn't live to hold that cool, gleaming metal again. In a way, that was sadder than what was surely to come from Them. There was still so much to be done.

They turned to Each Other, then started talking amongst Themselves. Sora caught only snippets of Their conversation, too lost in his own thoughts to pay them any heed. Why couldn't he have been more careful? He had been so cautious, so prepared, so _ready for anything_ before. Now he had messed up. Shadow had warned him against doing something so rash and spiteful, something that would give them both away, while they were there. But he had, and now They had found him. Now They would take him away. Now he would die. It seemed so solid, so final, that Sora very nearly laughed out loud.

"Is this him?" the brunet Person asked the other Person. The other Person nodded.

"That's the one. Sora Sugimaru." Sora hated the way his name sounded when said by Them. It sounded like some sort of inside joke, or like a stupid pseudonym. He wasn't Sora Sugimaru; he was nobody to Them. Just another psycho to take away, kill, and then pretend like he never existed. Why couldn't They understand? He wasn't a nobody! He was Sora! He had a name, and a life!

_So did Wakka_, he reminded himself. But oh, he had hated Wakka. Wakka was the only one out of the six of them who knew. Well, not knew, exactly, but was catching on. He was close; way too close. A few more days and he would have known for sure about Sora's little secret. He had had a name, and a life… and a death. No one could have believed it was Sora after that. Sora who did all those things, Sora who sneaked out late at night, knife in hand, Shadow at his side…

"We're going to have to ask you to come with us. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law…" Etc, etc. One of Them was speaking to him now. Sora looked up, half-expecting an outstretched hand. Instead, he saw handcuffs. These were different from the dreams. In the dreams, they were always rusted and jagged and cut into his skin, so that he was bleeding by the time they got to Their headquarters. These ones looked almost friendly in comparison. Almost.

"…Okay." Sora didn't object as they snapped against his wrists with a _krrrrck _noise. They were cold and hard, and he didn't like them, but he wouldn't complain. They were better than the sharp ones. Besides, his mother did all of the complaining for him.

"What are you doing!?" she screamed. "You can't do this, that's my _son_! He didn't do anything! Stop it! No! You can't take my son from me!" Sora was led out the door by the brunet Person. The other One held back his mother, who was trying desperately to reach for him. "No! Sora! _Sora_!"

A crowd had gathered around his house, Sora noticed vaguely. They had apparently noticed Their car in front of his house, and had come to see who was being arrested. As soon as he was led out, a gasp rose from the crowd, as if he were just some freak on display. No one could believe that Sora—the perfect little Boy Scout, the kind of kid that every mother wanted for her own son—was being arrested. There must have been a mistake! Sora couldn't have done anything worth arresting him!

To his right, Sora could see Kairi arguing with the African-American Person. She knew almost as much about the court system as Sora did, and was determined to prove what was wrong with this scenario. Meanwhile, Sora was being put into the back of the car, just like on TV. Finally Kairi just broke away form the Person and ran up to Sora.

"Sora, what's going on?" she asked him. "What happened?" Sora stared at her. Even after being completely shocked and stressed, she still seemed so pretty. He wondered what she would look like if she were coated in her own blood, then dismissed the thought. He only killed people he hated, not loved. Instead, he just stared at her.

"You were right, Kai," he told her blankly. "You said they'd find who did it eventually. And they did." Kairi blinked back tears.

"B-but I didn't mean… you couldn't… you…" Her next words were whispered. "_How could you_?" She was talking about the ones before Wakka, yes, but mostly Wakka himself. Sora's blank look faded, to be replaced by an angry scowl.

"Because I hated him." His next look was that of slight desperation. He knew what she was thinking. "I'm not crazy, Kairi. They think I am, but I know I'm not. I did some really awful things, but I had reasons for it. You have to believe me. They're going to kill me, but I'm not crazy!" Kairi only stared, mouth agape and eyes wet, shaking her head slowly.

"No… no… you _are_…" Sora scowled at her.

"No I'm _not_! Why won't you believe me!? I thought I could trust you!" He glared at her hatefully. "You'll pay for this." One of Them slammed the door, then got in Himself. With a loud sound, the car started up, then drove away.

Just like that, Sora's downhill spiral had begun. He would later fail the test presented to him by Them, most miserably. He wouldn't be able to represent himself in court for his 'instability', and would be proven guilty. Instead of jail, he would receive something, in his mind, far more terrible. He would be sent to Haven Mental Hospital, which is where our story really begins.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Psycho Director: **OMGIHAVENOCOMMENT. Hopefully this chapter will make more sense than the intro, a little bit maybe. Comments are nice, people, from nice people. Ha, pun.

**Rating T-M: Strong violence, medium to strong language, strong sexual references. You has yourself an evil little fanfic. :D**

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****SOME TIME LATER…**

_Haven Mental Hospital—9:45 AM, Tuesday_

The white hallways of Haven looked as bright and fake as ever on that sunny Tuesday morning. Light cascaded in through the windows in yellow beams, where tiny bits of dust danced around. Nurses and doctors in billowy white coats walked up and down the hallways like wind-up dolls, and all around, young children talked and played while sitting at plastic tables. Their chatter blended into background noise, virtually unnoticed by one boy standing in the lunch line (which, by the way, was eerily similar to a school lunch line). He had gone through a slight change during his stay at Haven, but not by much. His hair was as spiky and out of control as ever, and he still had the same blank expression on his face.

"Sora… mm-hmm…" An overly cheery lunch lady handed him a tiny Dixie cup, pressing it between his milk carton and some runny mashed potatoes. He didn't need to look to see what was inside the Dixie cup: a red and white pill of Ansectonomine, and a white, round pill of Ninorex. Drugs to keep him quiet and calm, in an attempt to ward off his 'little problem' of killing people in cold blood. Drugs he hated. Drugs that made him dizzy and tired, and made it hard to see some things. Still, he had to take them. Otherwise they got angry, and things got a lot worse for him. He tilted the cup until the two pills fell against his outstretched palm, then popped them into his mouth like they were mints and swallowed.

"Good boy," the nurse crooned, as if he were a dog. "Move along now." Sora walked back to one of the cafeteria tables, tucking the pills expertly under his tongue. He avoided swallowing the offending pills in front of her, only traces of spit, but she didn't need to know that.

Sora sat at a table with three other people, who were also foreign. Haven was one of the few hospitals designed to take people with his 'problem', and as such, often got people from around the world. Jack (who had maniac bipolar disorder and was the only adult at the table) was from the Caribbean. Aladdin (hallucinations and drug abuse) was from Arabia. Peter (epilepsy and frequent delusions) was from London. Sora himself was from Japan. The other three people took one look at him, then Aladdin and Peter moved to the far side of the table. Neither of them wanted to get anywhere near a psychopathic mass-murderer, and not without good reason. Only Jack stayed where he was, proving that he truly 'feared nothing'. Sora sighed. He was too used to this.

Opening and drinking some of his milk, Sora swallowed (carefully avoiding swallowing the pills), then pretended to have a coughing fit. He grabbed a napkin and pressed it to his mouth, then spat out the offending drugs amidst fake hacking. Acting like nothing unusual had happened, he rolled up the napkin, then tossed it lightly into a nearby trashcan, and not a moment too soon. A doctor appeared at his table for a daily assessment.

"Alright, let's get this started, hmm?" he told them in a low voice, who's tone hinted at relaxed and casual, but didn't quite make it. No one answered him, but it wasn't as if he minded. Virtually none of the patients were responsive, let alone friendly, to whom they considered their captors. "Mr. Sparrow, good morning. How are you coming along?"

"I'll live, but barely," he responded in his odd accent. He was the only one who gave more than a few words of answer to the doctors and nurses most of the time. The rest resisted as much as they could.

"Good, good," the doctor replied, scribbling into a notebook. The patients doubted that he ever actually listened to their responses, and he did nothing to close those rumors, but rather seemed to amplify them at times. It was very annoying.

"Aladdin, how are you? Have you seen anything strange today? You can tell me." The doctor moved on.

"No," Al replied, poking at his potatoes. Chances were good that he probably had hallucinated, but nobody wanted to raise a debate when they could easily lie their way out of it.

"Mr. Pan, you're looking brighter this morning (a blatant lie)! Do you know where you are?" Peter remained silent for a few seconds before speaking.

"Haven," he mumbled.

"Right. And do you know _why _it is called Haven?"

"'Because Haven is a safe place, where everyone is safe and happy and can be nurtured back into a full and normal life'," Peter quoted sarcastically. The quote had been drilled into their heads since the first day. The sarcasm was lost on the doctor.

"Very good, yes. Now, Mr. Sugimaru." Sora cringed at how his name sounded coming from the doctor, but the latter took it for just being startled that he was next. "You're the last one on my list. Now, how do you feel this morning? Angry?" In response, Sora simply moved his chair away from the doctor a few inches. He wasn't going to answer even one of their questions.

_Excellent_, Shadow assuaged him. Shadow was, as his name would imply, Sora's shadow. He moved and spoke, and was a very close friend to him. That was another reason why Sora hated the drugs. They made Shadow look fuzzy and sound far away. He _needed _Shadow, now more than ever. _Don't slip, Sora. Don't tell them about me, or we'll both be in trouble. Just trust me. _Sora already knew about the danger of slipping up, and trusted Shadow with all his heart, but he felt better hearing his voice. It reminded him that he was not alone.

"I suppose you might be feeling miserable. You feel overwhelmed, facing all of your problems by yourself. You're not alone, Sora. We want to help you. Just give us a chance, and I promise, we won't let you down."

_He can't. We've hit rock bottom, getting caught and being treated like animals. He's just frustrated because we're not giving in. Trust him, and we're lost. Don't, and we'll be free. Together, I know we can do it. _Sora nodded at Shadow, his mood elevated slightly. The doctor, however, mistook this as a response to his own offer.

"Thank you." He said this with as much overly dramatic gratefulness as he could muster, then stood up and left. If Peter and Al hadn't been so terrified of Sora, they might have laughed.

_We're going to escape, you know. Then, once we do, we'll make them pay. We'll burn this place to the ground. _Sora smiled slightly, unnoticed by the others.

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_Haven Medical Hospital, 7:25 PM, Tuesday_

Sora glanced warily at the nurse barging into his cell without permission, as always. He sometimes humored the thought of the medical staff having to knock and ask before coming in—but then, if that were so, he would never allow them in, along with a mass of other people. As it was, she walked in without even a knock of warning, then sat down beside Sora on the bed. He looked at her skeptically, and she smiled back warmly.

"Good afternoon, Sora. How are you?" The nurses and doctors frequently fired questions at their patients, to give them the illusion that they were contributing on a personal level. In reality, it was just another way to judge their behavior and use that to determine what was 'wrong' with them—an inescapable way. Sora responded by casting his eyes to his shoes, if only to make it easier to lie. They were his old yellow ones, the ones with four tiny decorative belts and a pair of zippers across them instead of laces. It was almost kind of them, how they allowed him to keep his old clothes. Almost.

"Fine." Sora mumbled an answer, noting just how much of a lie it really was. He wasn't fine; he had never been fine, not since the day with Axel… Still, that was a different, shorter story.

"I see. Sora…" she paused, then giggled annoyingly. "You have such a pretty name. I'm so jealous." Sora's frown deepened.

"It's a girl's name." She stopped giggling, much to his relief.

"Oh, fine. It's still nice." Sora merely scuffed the ground with the toe of his foot, and she abruptly changed the subject. "So… do you know why you're here?"

"Yes," Sora growled. He had been asked this all too many times (three, counting this one). The nurse waited for a more in-depth explanation, but there was none, so she prompted him.

"And why?" Sora pulled his legs up slowly so his feet could rest against the mattress, then tucked his arms around them, not caring at all about footprints. He hated this part. It made him feel like a criminal. Inhuman. Insignificant. It was a reminder as to why they had locked him away without a second thought, to live, work, and die inside sealed white walls.

"Because I'm not right," he began robotically. "I do bad things. I hurt people. Because I see and think things that I shouldn't—scary things. Because I put innocent people in danger just by being around them. Because I kill people. Because I'm messed up, and it's the only thing that keeps me alive. It's because I don't get letters." Letters from home, that is. For his entire time in Haven (which seemed more and more like a dream with each day), no one dared to so much as write him. They were better without him. The only one who was lost was himself, but no one cared. He was just an extra room that was better off empty. Just another meaningless name on a checklist. Just another crazy who made trouble, but was now locked away, to be forgotten.

That was how it always was, isn't it? There's a bad guy, he does bad things, he gets caught and locked away, and then it ends. No one mentions what happens while he's locked away, or why he did bad things. Everything is not without a reason, and everything continues. Though in Sora's case, he prayed that it didn't.

He finished up quietly, trying his best not to cry. It was a hopeless task.

"…Because Riku and Kairi must hate me, too." He swallowed hard, forcing it past the lump in his throat. "I-I'd like you to leave now. Please." The nurse was quiet for a while, before speaking in a soft voice.

"Alright." She got up, and there was the sound of a door slowly clicking shut. Sora was alone.

_No, you're not alone. _Sora grinned weakly through his tears at the familiar figure on the bed next to him. The figure had hidden while the nurse was there, pressing himself flatly against the floor. With just the two of them there, though, there was no need to pretend to be just a shadow. Normally Shadow's pitch-black body, vaguely resembling Sora's in a twisted mockery of a way, would be terrifying. Now it seemed strangely comforting, and Sora wrapped his thin arms around his waist, pressing his head against its torso.

"Shadow…" he mumbled, somehow happy and sad at the same time. "You're my friend, right? No matter what I do, you'll always be my friend, right?" Shadow ran his clawed hand though Sora's hair, soothingly.

"Of course. We'll always be together, no matter what. Hey," he said, changing the subject in the hopes of cheering his friend up, "I brought you something. Take it." He handed Sora the object—a gleaming, silver knife, stolen from the back kitchen in the cafeteria. Sora couldn't name the type of knife, but knew it was for cutting and flipping things such as turkey, as the two points at the end could attest to. Sora smiled at it, then at Shadow, then tucked it carefully between the mattress and the frame of the bed.

"They're not going to give us any shit here, little buddy. No drugs, no shitty food, no trying to make us feel like dirt…" Shadow reminded Sora. Sora grinned broadly, wiping his face of tears.

"No shots…" he added.

"No insults…"

"No 'how are you _feeling_'?" This cheesy imitation was all Sora could take, as he dissolved into giggles, made further by the fact that Shadow used this opportunity to tickle him. He kicked his feet and flailed his arms wildly, laughing and screaming.

"How are you feeling now, Sora? Huh? Huh? How do you _feeeeeel_?" Sora struggled to splutter out words in-between laughs.

"Stop… it! …Quit! …I feel… better!"

"And who's going to lose here? Us?" Sora shook his head while laughing.

"N-no! …We're going… to win!"

"Then who's going to lose?"

"_They_ are! They're going… to lose!" Shadow stopped tickling, and Sora took this opportunity to get some precious air in, gasping and giggling.

"Atta' boy."

Wednesday, 9:13 AM Two Months Before Haven 

"_Ohayo, Haru-san_!" Sora called cheerfully, waving to his next-door neighbor as he zoomed by on his bike. The old gardener waved back at him, a smile breaking out over her heavily wrinkled face. She had just had her eighty-second birthday, making her the second oldest resident of Destiny Islands (the first was a crotchety old man who kept to his house and porch, who must assumed to be into his nineties). The Destiny Islands were a series of man-made islands off the coast of Japan, just above Hokkaido. Due to the vast amount of American trade that took place there, the residents all spoke both English and Japanese fluently. While most spoke English in the open, Japanese was still used for more personal affairs. Or, as Mr. Tanaka often put it, "when little ingrates can't be bothered to follow customs". Sora was far from an ingrate—he just held a strong admiration for his native language.

"_Konnichi wa, Sora-chan_!" Sora put his foot down to brake his bike, then grinned cockily at the woman as she hobbled over to him.

"Oi, I'm thirteen now, you know, so it's Sora-_san_. I'm practically an adult." Mrs. Haru smiled and crossed her arms sternly.

"You shall not be an adult until your height surpasses that of your ego, Sora-_chan_." She reached into her bag, while Sora mumbled something about growth spurts. Finally, she pulled out a small, white box. A tiny gold ribbon was wrapped around the middle, then tied into a bow at the top. "Happy birthday, anyway." Sora's smile widened as he took the box, surprised.

"You remembered…?" He said incredulously.

"Of course. One week…"

"…And one day apart."

"Ha, yes. You had me worried for a moment that _you _were the one who had forgotten." Sora rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, then took the ribbon off and slid open the box. Inside was a black-and-green digital watch, neatly cushioned on a white pillow. Sora eased it out of its home, grinning still wider, then slipped it around his wrist.

"Hey, it fits!" Mrs. Haru nodded.

"So maybe next time you won't be so late coming by." Sora's face was blank.

"…Late…" Suddenly he gasped, shocked. "Crap! I'm late!" He gave Mrs. Haru a hug and a quick "thanks for the gift", then ran over and hopped onto his bike. Turning the front wheel so that it faced the main street, he gave Mrs. Haru one last wave, then took off down the tar road and out of sight. Mrs. Haru stared at where he had left to, confused.

"Late for what…?" she wondered. Finally dismissing it as nothing important, she turned back to her flower garden. Her sunflowers were at their maximum height for the year, and the entire lawn glowed yellow and green as a result. Still, this meant much work to be done with the garden. She sighed, wishing that Sora could have stayed a bit longer. She could use the extra help, and he would have gladly given up some of his time to help her. He was such a nice boy, after all.

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_And that's the end of that! Hope you enjoyed the weirdness, everyone! YAY PSYCHONESS!! 8D_

_Oh, I mean, to be continued. Yeah._


	3. Chapter 3

**Psycho Director: **COMMENTS PLZ. 8O Don't make me get the stick out. 'Cause I will. Enjoy the insanity! And this is the start of Sora's insanity, just so you know. How he becomes... more... weird-er. And stuff. --

**Rated M: Mild violence, Strong language, Strong sexual references.**

**Warning:: Contains the rape. 83 AxelxSora, to be exact. For the fangirls, you know.**

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Destiny Islands_**

_Two Months Before Haven_

"Man, this is heavy!" Sora complained loudly from beneath a large cardboard box. Only the tips of his spiky brown hair stuck up above the heavily duct-taped monstrosity—it was as heavy as it was big, to be sure. Still, the brunet was able to lug it out from the back of the mover's van with minimal difficulty. He dropped it unceremoniously on the grass near the driveway, the paused to wipe his forehead.

It was a bright and sunny day, the heat falling down upon the small series of islands in waves. A few brave clouds specked the sky, bringing the hope of rain—but not today. The many tropical plants sprouting around the house brought some shade, forming canopies that could almost be considered comfortable when underneath them. However, these sanctuaries were few and far-between, so that anyone daring enough to come outside was faced with the full force of the weather. Not that it was unbearable—it was just enough to provide one with a thin film of sweat, especially after toting boxes all day.

The house the boxes were eventually planning to be put into was a reasonably nice one. It had plain white walls, a beige roof, and matching window shutters. It had three stories in all, the last of which was a tiny attic with but one round window on either side of the house. The other windows were long, but not so much as to be gaudy, and there were four in the front—two on either side of the front door. The door was a shade of deep green, with a rippled, oval window with gold trim in the center. It contrasted strongly with the plain wooden porch weighted down by a lone porch swing and still more boxes. All in all, it was by no means a mansion, but still a lovely place to call home. It had been for sale for some time, before being bought a few days back.

The buyer in question was a young man named Axel. He had ridiculously spiky, bright red hair, which put Sora's own brunet locks to shame, and two reversed teardrop-shaped tattoos below his eyes. That day he was wearing a heavy black sweater and black jeans to match, in blatant defiance of the temperature. The only thing on him to distract from the black (besides his hair) was a tiny chain necklace. Despite his gothic appearance, he had a carefree and smug demeanor about him. Even though they were so different, Sora felt himself slightly drawn to the enigmatic stranger, which was why he had offered to give him a hand with moving into his new home. Why not? It wasn't like he had anything important to do that day, otherwise.

Sora picked up the box again, straining under its weight. By some miracle, he managed to drag it up the gravel driveway to the two steps up to the porch, then heaved it onto the wooden railing. He found that by sliding it up the rail, he was able to get it to the porch relatively easily. Renewed by this, he was able to get it through the open door and into the kitchen without major problems. Finally dropping it off against a black leather couch, he sighed with relief, then fell onto the said couch. His arms hung limply, one over the back, and one towards the floor, and his feet rested on the armrest.

After a few seconds, Axel came in with an armload of boxes. He dumped them on the counter, where their precarious pile fell apart and scattered across the black tile. He then made way for the couch that Sora was resting on. Instead of telling him to move over, Axel instead sat down firmly on his chest.

"Ack—hey! Get off!" Sora pushed the redhead roughly but teasingly, so that the latter was forced to stand up again. Sora then grudgingly got up from his laid-down position to sit instead on one of the two couch cushions, leaving the other for Axel. He used it, flopping down hard and stretching his arms above the back.

"Man, I'm beat! Now I know why so many people have garage sales. I hate lugging around all of this shit." Sora laughed, but more out of good manners than by thinking this was particularly funny. He found that, with Axel sitting near him, he was scooting slowly further away, until the armrest jabbed at his side. The couch was simply too small for two guys to sit in comfortably. Still, it beat carrying more boxes around.

Axel reached over to something on his side of the couch, which was hidden from Sora's view by the armrest. There was the sound of sloshing ice, which gave Sora the opinion that what he was fingering through was a cooler. Sure enough, when he brought his hands out a few seconds later they were holding twin cans of soda, both sopping wet. He sat one down on his armrest to drip into the leather, ignored, and then handed the other to Sora. The brunet happily grabbed at it, taking it away a second before their hands could meet.

Click, pop, fizz… 

"Cheers. To a new home and new friends," Axel announced. The two freshly opened cans clicked merrily together, allowing some diminishing tan frosh to escape onto the rims of each and fill the air with the sound of hundreds of microscopic bubbles popping. Sora sipped at his, enjoying the feeling of the cool, bubbly substance slipping down his parched throat. He eyed the label idly while drinking. He had never heard of the brand before, but it tasted like a fruity soda enough. He quickly downed the rest of it before his conscious could object, and Axel was doing the same, but not for conscious's sake. He just drank fast.

After a few minutes (more like seconds) of drinking soda and exchanging bad jokes, the two realized that they had to get back to work. Disappointing though it was, Axel assuaged Sora's slight disappointment by reminding him that it was all '_inside _work'. Sora couldn't understand why he had slightly drawn out the word 'inside', then just took it to be a slip of the tongue. He couldn't dwell on it too long, as there were still boxes to be moved.

"Well," Axel groaned, placing his hands against the small of his back and stretching, "might as well get all this crap to the basement." He gestured to a pile of cardboard boxes near the corner of the room. There were only about four there, all of which were in terrible wrapping condition. Axel had a lot of strong points—wrapping was not one of them.

"Sure," Sora replied, for lack of a better term. Axel walked coolly over to the pile, then grabbed the two heaviest boxes. Sora watched him carry them almost effortlessly across the room, until he came to an open wooden door. Beyond it were a series of cement steps. He strutted down them and out of sight, leaving Sora alone in the room. It was quiet.

_Show-off_, he thought to himself, then blew a raspberry in Axel's direction. Still, it was better than having to carry the heavy boxes himself. He stacked the only two remaining on top of each other, so that an open box filled with cutlery was on top. Curious as to what good these items would do if they weren't in the kitchen, Sora began walking down the steps. Who knew? Maybe there was another kitchen downstairs…

…Or maybe not. Sora realized that the basement was nothing more than a large bedroom, judging by its contents. The walls were painted straight red, and the floor had pure white carpet. The bed pressed against the wall had been reassembled and made up with white pillows and a deep red, almost black, comforter, its polished oak frame contrasting strongly with the rest of the room. Two dressers, a set of shelves, and a night table, all made of a much cheaper quality of wood, were scattered randomly about the spacey area. One dresser had a TV balanced precariously on it, with two matching speakers on the ground on either side, while the other things were bare.

Axel had deposited his boxes against one speaker, and was leaning against the free dresser with his arms crossed. He smiled at Sora, but Sora couldn't help but get a strange feeling, and paused at the stairs. Sensing his uncertainty, Axel waved.

"Shut the door, will ya'? This is the only room that's cool, and I want it to stay that way." Sora realized he couldn't stay paused in the stairwell forever. So, shutting the door behind him slowly, he made his way down the stairs. Axel was right—it was considerably cooler down here. Still, that didn't help the uneasy feeling the entire area gave off.

"Nice room," Sora complimented. It wasn't exactly a lie, either. Despite the weirdness it gave off, the room was otherwise pretty interesting. Sora walked around the bed, then plopped the boxes down, still stacked, against the side of it. He noticed dimly that the top box—the one with all the silverware—was almost perfectly level with the comforter, minus an inch or two. Not one for measurements, though, Sora simply hopped onto the bed, then slid to the other end and back off. It was easier than going back around, and the bed was surprisingly comfy.

"Alright," he began, "should we go back outside and get some more stuff inside? Or start unpacking?" He was eager to leave, even if it meant going back under the hot sun. Axel said nothing. His head was down, facing his crossed arms, and Sora wondered if he might be asleep. "…Axel? Hello? Axeeeel?" He got up from the bed, then walked over to the redhead and waved his hands in front of his face. "Come on, man. Let's get this over with." Axel's head whipped up suddenly, starling the now thirteen-year-old and making him jump back.

"If you say so, _buddy_." It happened so fast that Sora didn't have time to react. Axel grabbed at his front collar, then hoisted him up into the air, so that they were eye-to-eye. Sora's eyes widened at the redhead.

"What…?" Axel didn't answer his question, instead stepping forward a few paces, bringing a struggling brunet with him. Sora grabbed at his own collar, for what good it did. After a few steps more, he then threw the boy violently onto the bed, then jumped on himself.

Sora was confused, in a very bad way. One moment he was facing the stairs, ready to get back to work. The next moment he saw only Axel's face and hungry eyes, inches from his own. Axel's breath was hot on his face, so that he turned his head to the side to face the headboard. The bedsprings creaked and groaned at this new weight, bobbing them gently up and down, before coming to a halt once again. Silence reigned for a few strange seconds.

Sora fought to sit up, but it was a useless task. Axel's hands were clamped around his wrists like vices, and he was sitting on his knees, one on either side of the brunet, leaning forward into his face. Sora's face flushed slightly as his mind considered this dramatic change of events, but still refused to believe what this could mean.

"W-what… are you _doing_?" Sora stuttered, shocked. Axel grinned wickedly.

"Fucking you. What else?" Sora gasped, his face beet red. It was a trap all along! Axel grinned wider. "Aww, you're blushing. Don't worry so damn much. It's only rape if you don't want it. So relax, enjoy it. I've fucked tons of women before, and a guy or two… but never a kid. It could be fun."

"B-but… you can't… You're… I'm…" Sora felt tears gathering at the edges of his eyes. "Please, _no_!" Axel released one of Sora's arms, but he was far too horrified to move. He could only watch, mouth agape, as the redhead slowly and deliberately tugged at the zipper of his jumpsuit. The couldn't be happening… this couldn't be real… The cold zipper slid across his chest like an ice cube, clicking slowly downwards as the teeth came undone and pulled naturally apart. Why couldn't this just be a bad dream!? Each move Axel made was leisurely and gradual, and why not? He had all the time in the world.

_Clink… clink… clink… _The sound of the teeth coming apart each sounded like a cacophony to Sora's ears. He felt Axel's other hand be let go, but only so he could press this hand against Sora's now bare chest.

"Stop! Stop it!" Sora yelled as he felt the scorching hot hand press against him, burning at his exposed skin. In desperation, he wrapped both of his arms around the wrist of this new invader, clenching until his knuckles were white and tears ran down his face. Axel seemed to find this immensely pleasing, as he brought both of the thirteen-year-old's hands up to his mouth, then slid his tongue slowly across the backs of them. Sora shuddered, a giant wave of fear and disgust rippling through his body. His hands instinctively released Axel's, then fell against a spot just below his collarbone.

"You know, you taste a little like peaches. Yummy." He leaned down closer, probably trying to get another taste in a less acceptable area. Sora cringed, scared beyond all reason…

Suddenly Axel reared back, clutching his chin and swearing like crazy. A large red mark had already formed there, and must have been tender. Sora looked at his fist, which was outstretched to Axel, and quickly made the connection. But… how? He hadn't remembered doing anything of the sort. When had he… punched Axel?

"Jesus Christ, you little bitch!" Axel screamed at Sora, cupping his hands over his wounded chin. "What the fuck did you do to me?! Ow! Augh, son-of-a-bitch!" After a few seconds of pained yells, in which Sora was allowed a bit of time to recover, Axel was beginning to calm down.

"Heh, looks like your not such a naïve little Boy Scout, after all. Isn't that _interesting_?"

* * *

_To Be Continued. This is the point where you comment, people. Even flames are welcome. It's snowing here, and I'm cold. 8(_


	4. Chapter 4

**_P_sycho Director: Hi! How are you today? That's greeeeaaaat.**

**_R_ated PG-13: Strong violence, strong language, strong sexual references**

**_W_ARNING:: Still rape. And violence. Squee... w 

* * *

**_"Y-you earned it, you… you stupid pedophile!"_ Sora yelled back to Axel, staining to sit up. It was hard, as his limbs felt like warm noodles, and just as fragile. "You deserve to _die_!" Axel only laughed at this, albeit bitterly. 

"And what? You're going to be the one to do it? Don't make me laugh. You're just making everything that much more painful." He grinned, then; a twisted grin that sent waves of fear down Sora's spine. "But hey, I'm not such a bad guy. If you wanted bondage, why didn't you just say so? I can adjust to that. Now, just stay there if you know what's good for you. I think I've got something useful in one of these boxes…"

Sora bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming at the thought, harder and harder until it numbed over. There was no use trying to stand—his legs were shaky and unsteady, guaranteed to buckle if any weight were on them. On instinct, he brought his feet up onto the comforter (_comfort_, yeah right) and backed up across the bed, making tiny whimpering gasps of fear as he did so. His hands clenched the edge of the mattress in a vice grip, his wide eyes still locked on the shuffling form of Axel.

"Damn, I know it's here somewhere…" he muttered, his head, shoulders, and arms lost in an opaque plastic box. Sora reached out away from the mattress.

_Oh please, God, help me, _he begged. _I need to get out of here. Please, please, help… _his hand brushed against a cardboard rim. The texture felt rough against his roaming hands, but welcoming. With it, there was hope.

Sora plunged his hand into the box, where it came against a hard wood handle. The wood felt a bit worn, but still hard. He felt further along it until his finger traced around a circle engraved in it, which felt cool to the touch, like metal.

_Not that, _a voice in his mind said, so soft he could barely make it out. _Keep going. Just a bit further. _He obeyed the voice, pressing his hand against shapes and textures he couldn't hope to identify. The voice dismissed every one of them, increasing Sora's panic. Would any of these help him? Please, hurry up! Axel wasn't going to search boxes forever.

_Here!_ The voice cried, so sudden that Sora flinched slightly. _Grab this! It will help you. _Sora did, wrapping his fist around the wood handle tightly.

"Ha, found something! Yes, this'll do fine. Sorry about the wait, kid. I promise, I'll make up to you in the end." Axel turned around, toting a coil of thin white rope, at the same moment Sora yanked out the object in the box. His eyes widened in surprise at what Sora was holding: a wicked long kitchen knife with a wooden handle. The blade glinted in the light, its sharp edge all too apparent. Sora cupped his other hand over the one clenching the knife, then forced his way to his knees.

"Hey, what're you doing? Put that thing down! You can't use that against me, and you know it. You're not that kind of person." Sora moved back an inch. He was right. He couldn't hurt someone else. He _wouldn't._

_Don't listen to him! _The voice commanded. _You can. You have to, or else he won't stop. Do it!_

"How about a compromise? Stop acting like an idiot and put that away, and I'll let you run back to your Mommy. You suddenly don't seem so cute anymore. You're just a waste of my time."

_He's weakening. You're in control of the situation now. Don't let him have it back! Kill him, Sora. __**Kill**__ him!_

"You don't want to do this."

_You don't have a choice._

"I'm through playing games. Give that to me so I can _strangle _your little neck!" Axel lunged forward, arms outstretched.

_Sora!_

"Let go of that already! I said let _go, y_ou little brat!"

_I'm __**telling**__ you to __**kill him!**_

"What—!?"

_Stab him! Kill him now! Plunge the blade into his black heart!_

_**Sora!**_

Suddenly it was over. Red ran down Sora's arm in thick rivers, dying into the rumpled comforter and his white sleeve. It dribbled down Axel's black shirt, reflecting in two pairs of eyes wide with shock. The blade was embedded entirely into flesh, dead center of Axel's chest. His mouth was agape, but he didn't bother to shut it.

"You… you're…" he stuttered. Sora released his hand from the blade with effort, tumbling back against the mattress. No, no. He couldn't have… there was no way… why…? Axel smiled, with what looked like massive effort. "You're gonna fucking well pay for this… They _lock up_ lunatics like you… You're going straight to jail for this, you naïve brat. You should have… thought this… through…" His eyes dimmed, and he was gone. But they didn't close. Instead, they continued to stare the boy down, accompanied by a ghostly grin. A crazy grin. Crazy Axel. Crazy Sora.

"No… No…" Sora moaned, folding his legs against himself and pressing his hands against his ears. "It's not true… I didn't just do that… I'm dreaming… I'm dreaming… I didn't kill anyone. Never!" He groaned loudly, an echoing sound of frustration and sadness. "Please, Axel. Stay alive. I'll… I'll call a hospital or something!"

_You can't do that._ The voice was back. _Then they'll know you did it. They'll think you're **insane**. _

"But I can't just leave him," he reminded the voice. "What if he's still alive? Then he'll be the one locked up, and I'll not be… I'll not be accused of… m-murder. I can't be accused of murder if he's still alive, right?"

_True, true. But what about __**attempted**__ murder?_

"I had to! He was gonna… gonna… you know… It was self-defense!"

_That's right. But don't you watch TV? Even people with perfectly good reasons like that have to serve time. _

"I can't go to jail! No! I'm just a kid!"

_'Just kids' don't murder people. You're far from 'just a kid' now._

"Then… what do I do?"

_You run. And you run fast._ Sora didn't need to be told twice. He attempted to drag Axel's corpse somewhere out of the way, but only succeeded in getting covered in blood and wearing out his arms. Axel was too heavy, and Sora's wet grip was too slick. In the end, he left the dead pedophile there, then took off running. He had only one place to go.

* * *

_Destiny Islands, Kasumi Haru's House_

Kasumi Haru was surprised when she first heard the knocking. Not that it was so much having a visitor that surprised her: it was how they chose to signal their arrival. Why not just use the doorbell? And why on Earth were they knocking so hard, and much? It seemed as if they were being chased by the Devil himself.

"The door's unlocked. Help yourself in!" she called out from the kitchen, then leaned down to look through the oven door. A tray of brownies simmered inside, their scent lacing the room.

From outside the kitchen, there came the sound of the doorknob rattling slowly. Whoever was on the other side seemed to be having second thoughts of coming in. The door creaked for a bit shorter than was necessary, signaling that the opener in question had not opened the door quite all the way.

"Um… Mrs. Haru…?" The voice was quiet, but she recognized it all the same. It belonged to a young friend of hers: Sora. Good. Those brownies would not go entirely to waste. And it looked like he would need them: even from the kitchen, Mrs. Haru could detect a strong note of despair in the young brunet's voice.

"Oh, come in! Have a seat on the couch, go ahead. I'll be out in _juuuust_ a second." The creak of springs told her Sora had done just that. She quickly turned off the oven, taking out the tray of brownies from their home and leaving them on the countertop to cool. That being done, she made her way to the living room, where Sora was.

"Now, why don't you tell me what's got you sounding so…" She trailed off at the sight of him. With his back pressed against the armrest and his knees drawn up, skinny arms laced around his legs and head down, it took her a bit to notice. At first it just looked like a rather extreme case of the blues. However, something was off. There was a kind of smell in the air… it was faint, but noticeable. Kind of coppery, not really placeable. She looked back at Sora, then gasped. Her face paled white, her eyes wide at what she saw.

Blood. It was coated over his hands like a pair of gloves, but had drizzled down his arms and onto his shoulders. There were ugly blotches of it on his jacket and the front of his jumpsuit, which had dripped to his knees. It looked like he had been tossed into a slaughterhouse. By the tears in his eyes, a meat grinder seemed grotesquely more likely.

"_Sora_!" Mrs. Haru was at his side in seconds, osteoporosis be damned. She got down on her knees beside the couch in record time, facing the same direction as Sora, then wrapped her left arm around his shoulders for comfort. With her other hand, she grabbed one of his hands, slid off the originally white glove, and looked for cuts.

"It's alright, it's alright," she told him while looking. He hiccuped. "You're safe now. You're safe. But, oh my, what happened? You look a mess!" It was then that Sora found his vocal chords.

"I tried to stop him…" he protested. "I really did! But he wouldn't! It was his fault! He was coming and I was scared and I knew if I didn't he'd try to hurt me more but… Oh, God, I didn't want to! He was there and he was gonna k-kill me! H-he said he was gonna strangle me and someone was yelling and… and…" He pressed against Mrs. Haru's side. She released his hand (which was devoid of cuts) in order to give him a full hug. His next words were painfully soft. "Please don't let them lock me up. He said they would. Please, please, don't let them take me."

* * *

_Mrs. Sugimaru's House _

Mikki Sugimaru received a phone call that would change her life at seven PM. Her son had been off helping someone else move in at the time. He hadn't asked her permission, but that was Sora for you. Whenever someone was in need, he'd drop everything and run to help.

Putting aside the magazine she was reading, Mrs. Sugimaru got up from the recliner and made towards the ringing phone. The plain white device sat next to its book on a blue tiled counter built into the kitchen wall. Having reached the counter, she lifted the phone off of its receiver, pressing a green button below the Caller ID. She recognized the number as Kasumi Haru: a close friend of the family. Odd. Why would she call at seven at night?

"Hello?" Mrs. Sugimaru asked. The voice on the other end, while still belonging to Kasumi, was low and concerned.

"Mikki?" she asked back. "It's about your son." Mikki sank into a chair near the counter, a plain wooden one.

"Sora? Is he alright?" On the other end, Kasumi sighed.

"…Not exactly. I hope you're sitting down. You see… I'm not sure how to tell you this, but…

"He's been raped." There was a clattering sound. Mikki's phone had fallen to the floor.

* * *

_To be continued..._


End file.
